Christmas Stories
by CyborgRockStar
Summary: Many different authors combine their styles to bring you Christmas Stories, several oneshots involving different plots centering around Christmas and winter, about countless different characters: an Advent calendar of sorts.
1. Christmas Stories

**Disclaimer:** I really am infringing on someone else copyright, but I mean it in the best possible way.

**_Title: _Christmas Stories  
_By:_ Lichtblick**

I was late with doing my round that night, but I was sure no one was going to care about it and no one knew about it anyway.

The abbey's corridors were always cold, even during summer. Now as it were already the last days of November it was literally frozen. The little traces of water, which always marked the walls, were glittering in the light of my flashlight. I let the spot glide from the left to the right along the wall and enjoyed the sparkling.

I always liked the night shifts more. The boys were sleeping, all was quiet, and now the winter let it seem almost peaceful, or as peaceful as it can get in the abbey.

I was finished with the first corridor and started with the next; this one was even longer than the first and housed the younger boys. I thought I heard voices coming from one of the rooms, so I softened my steps, by it the boys wouldn't hear me before I found them.

I stopped in front of every room and listened. Out of the first few rooms no noise came; from the fourth room I heard soft snoring and moved on. I nearly started to think that I'd been mistaken, when I heard the voices again from behind the door I was facing.

I could make out five different voices, so at least three boys were in the wrong room. The rules would have forced me to break up the party immediately and report about the occurrence, but there was also another rule and that got me to listen more carefully. We guards were handed extra payment for every conspiracy we revealed; it was almost our usual wages doubled. A day before there had been food stolen from the kitchen in such an amount, that Boris feared some of the boys were collecting provisions for an escape plan. Perhaps now I was about to learn more.

It was the seventh room on the right, which meant that it belonged to Bryan and Spencer. With that knowledge it wasn't difficult to guess who the other three could be, since especially Bryan didn't used to hang around with a lot of the guys. It could only be Tala, Ian, and Kai with them.

The boys were clever, had I not been listening so carefully, I might not have caught them. Normally the boys always betrayed themselves through the light. It shines through under the door and illuminates the corridor.

They must have stuffed something in the groove under the door and put something in front of the keyhole also, because no light showed outside.

The last words had all been muffled and I couldn't make out anything coherent, so I pressed my right ear harder against the door and after my hearing had gotten used to the sound I could make out their conversation.

And well, it surprised me a bit.

"_Please tell me we are not all here only because you wanted to read Tala!"_

"_Read what?" _Spencer sounded like he had just woken up.

"_A Christmas story," _Ian answered cheerfully.

"_Show me," _Bryan commanded, I don't know whom, but I guess it was Ian, because there was no further argument.

"_This one is told from a donkey's perspective." _I heard the shocked exclamation moments afterwards and involuntary had to smile.

"_Yeah well, after all it was the donkey's manger Jesus used as his bed after he was born. If you ask me it's about time, that the poor animal finally can speak his mind."_

After that I couldn't make out anything other than a few _'stupid' s _and other similar words for some time, because all of them were speaking at the same time.

"_And why are we doing this in our room?"_

"_We wanted to spare you the way," _Tala answered flippantly.

"_There would have been no way, because I wouldn't have come."_

"_But you're in definite need for some Christmas spirit," _someone grumbled.

I nearly flinched when I heard something smashing against the wall.

"_It's a Christmas story from the perspective of a donkey for heaven's sake_. _Who wants to hear it anyway?" _Bryan gave it one last try.

"_I want," _Kai answered. And I had to admit the kid had some courage.

"_Yeah sure." _Bryan grunted. _"You only want to hear it to get on my nerves."_

"_Right, you're always the center of my decisions Bryan," _Kai replied sarcastically. The boy had really gotten used to the tone around there fast.

"_Where do you have that book from anyway?"_ Spencer injected quickly.

"_Out of a bookstore of course."_

"_When have you been allowed to go to a bookstore?"_ Kai asked disbelievingly.

"_This morning."_

"_No, I heard what Boris said and that was just that you were supposed to collect the reports from the city."_

"_He gave me two hours. I took Ian with me, we parted the work and had still time to go to the bookstore."_

"_Yep, I chose the book and we were back on time,"_ confirmed Ian.

"_I should have known, that only you could choose a story like this."_

I heard feet hitting the ground. Ian must have jumped up with indignation.

"_You would have found no better. Do you think they have Christmas stories about superheroes or sport teams? Because they don't"_

"_He's right. If there had been a better one, I would have taken it, but they were all about little boys or girls waiting for Santa Claus." _Tala calmed everyone down.

It got quiet after that.

"_Why are we doing this at all?"_ Finally someone asked the question I wanted to have the answer to the whole time.

"_The Christmas rules, remember? Every Advent you can either read a Christmas story or sing Christmas carols. If anyone wants to sing, then go ahead."_

I grimaced and could imagine that the boys inside imitated my mimic, since no one replied to the dare.

"_So, who's going to read it out?" _I heard Kai ask after a while.

Little later Spencer started to recite the children Christmas story.

I stayed the whole time. It was a weird situation, standing there in the abbey, leaning against a door and listening to boys telling Christmas stories, who I actually should be handing over to Boris, because they acted against curfew rules.

But through all its weirdness it was still one of the most peaceful and most memorable nights at that place.

I came every Advent after that one and listened together with Ian, Tala, Kai, Bryan and Spencer to the stories, no matter if I was on duty or not.

After Christmas I quit my job at the abbey and left the town, the country and everything else behind. The only thing I kept from that time is the tradition the boys taught me back then. Even today I still read a Christmas story every Advent and I guess one or two of them even had a donkey in them.

**The End!**


	2. 12 Days a' Christmas Borified

DM666: This is the twelve days of Christmas only it's what Boris would give to people. It is better if you sing along, though not out loud.

Tyson:_ On the first day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Max: _On the second day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree_

Ray: _On the third day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Kai: _On the fourth day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Everyone: _On the fifth day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Hilary: _On the Sixth day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Six poisonous frogs,_

Everyone: _Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Bryan: _On the seventh day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Seven electric shocks,_

Hilary: _Six poisonous frogs,_

Everyone: _Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Spencer: _On the eighth day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Eight bags of drugs,_

Bryan: _Seven electric shocks,_

Hilary: _Six poisonous frogs,_

Everyone: _Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson:_ And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Ian: _On the ninth day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Nine loaded guns,_

Spencer:_ Eight bags of drugs,_

Bryan: _Seven electric shocks,_

Hilary: _Six poisonous frogs,_

Everyone: _Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Tala_: On the Tenth day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Ten piles of dog shit,_

Ian: _Nine loaded guns,_

Spencer:_Eight bags of drugs,_

Bryan: _Seven electric shocks,_

Hilary: _Six poisonous frogs,_

Everyone: _Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Mr. Dickinson: _On the eleventh day of Christmas Borisgave to me,_

_Eleven sleazy hit men,_

Tala: _Ten piles of dog shit,_

Ian: _Nine loaded guns,_

Spencer: _Eight bags of drugs,_

Bryan: _Seven electric shocks,_

Hilary: _Six poisonous frogs,_

Everyone: _Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions,_

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._

Voltaire: _On the twelfth day of Christmas Boris gave to me,_

_Twelve poisoned turkeys,_

Mr. Dickinson: _Eleven sleazy hit men,_

Tala: _Ten piles of dog shit,_

Ian: _Nine loaded guns,_

Spencer: _Eight bags of drugs,_

Bryan: _Seven electric shocks,_

Hilary: _Six poisonous frogs,_

Everyone: _Five rabid dogs,_

Kai: _Four scorpions_,

Ray: _Three dead rats,_

Max: _Two exploding letters,_

Tyson: _And an A-bomb in a Christmas tree._


	3. Every Time

Disclaimer: CyborgRockStar doesn't own Beyblade; proper ownership resides with Aoki Takao-san.

**Every Time**

Fire crackling in the hearth, golden garland strung everywhere, general holiday cheer lingering, snowflakes dancing lazily outside: The perfect holiday atmosphere. Gathered together in a particularly lavishly decorated room were three famous Majestics, beyblading experts. Joyous feelings for the holidays usually resided in the heart of at least one member: lime hair, red hat, shimmering eyes, it's Oliver. Unfortunately for Oliver that eve, though, Johnny was also in the room, slumped on a plush stool, playing chess with Robert, scowling and putting a dent in Oliver's holiday spirit.

"What's the point of Christmas anyway?" complained the fire-haired teenager, staring intently at the black-white chessboard as Robert began making his next move.

"Jesus's birth," repeated Oliver for the umpteenth time, clutching the edge of the chair he sat in rather tightly with suppressed annoyance. "I've already _told _you that, Johnny!"

"Well, I don't know why you're trying to push this on me, I don't believe in any _Jesus savior _person." Leaning back, Johnny squinted in concentration, attempting to work out his move in the game.

"Okay, okay, I can understand, I suppose, but you don't have to go spreading your negativity about the holidays you don't believe in to other people!"

No reply was received as Johnny made his move, smirking. To his displeasure, though, Robert was completely prepared—he predicted Johnny's move and found a major hole.

"Dag!" muttered Johnny heatedly, watching Robert smile with satisfaction. Distorting his face in irritation, Johnny stood and cracked his knuckles. A tiny silver bell jingled and all turned toward the door, only to see the only not present member of their team enter: Enrique. Their purple-haired captain smirked unpleasantly: He knew the bell atop the door annoyed Johnny every time it tinkled, and his friend was already in a bad mood…. Ha, ha, eh?

Scowling ferociously, Johnny rolled his shoulders, just as a thought sprung upon Oliver.

"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings," recited the French boy, smiling with mellow contentment at the age-old epigram.

"What?" murmured Johnny, red eyebrows arching skeptically. "What kind of doltish thing is that to say? Angels aren't real."

"Then who asked Mary to have Jesus? Who went to Joseph in his dream to tell him to stay with Mary? Who appeared to the shepherds to show them the star to follow?" demanded Oliver, blinking innocently in such a manner that it challenged Johnny's belief.

"If I've told you once, I've told you a million times, Oliver, I don't believe in Jesus or any of that religious boloney you fall for!"

"Boloney?" Oliver stood, offended, usually mellow face contorted with anger.

"Yeah, you heard me! Angels, pfft, that's fiction! No one came to Earth as a Savior, either, that's just a lie to give people something to hold onto in rough times! I'm outta here, just going for a walk, okay? Okay."

With that, Johnny headed out, followed by the annoying jangle of a small silver bell.

-- -- --

Breath falling from his mouth as steam, Johnny huffed down the street, irritation swelling as he dwelled on his anger's push factors for the evening: losing to Robert, plus annoying old sayings, plus damn jingling bells, plus the whole holiday plus Johnny's usual crankiness—too much frustrating articles.

Shaking his head, Johnny marched down the sidewalk, glaring into every store window, passing people shopping, wishing it wasn't snowing in an annoyingly sluggish way.

Of course, something else just _had _to happen to elevate the level of Johnny's irritation: He heard a bell tinkling.

Looking ahead, Johnny saw a man clad in red standing at the mouth of an alleyway jangling a brass bell and pleading passerby to donate to the Salvation Army. Charity, feh, thought Johnny, scowling at the accursed bell sound. After he passed the do-gooder, he stared into the windows of shops, bored and cranky.

Unfortunately for the folks walking behind him, Johnny suddenly stopped dead in his tracks, eyes fixated at a certain something in the window. Usually, the shove he received from an annoyed passerby at his sudden halt would have sent him into a tantrum, but what he saw sent waves of shock through his system so great he hardly noticed the push: There, in the window, was a doll with a golden halo…and a store employee was attaching golden wings to its back.

Shaking his head, now out of annoyance and into confusion, Johnny insisted mentally this was merely a freak coincidence. Seizing his usual calm, he lifted his head and carried on walking. Until—

A tiny jingling sound reverberated as it passed him. Startled, Johnny whipped around, displeasing pedestrians behind him. There, upon the red hat complete with a white puffball at the end—was a little silver bell, smack-dab on a tourist's hat.

Johnny kept on marching along then, glancing about, daring the world to show him a symbolic angel getting its wings. When no such thing happened, he laughed out loud, congratulating himself on being the victor in the argument he and Oliver had, and completely shoving from his brain the display of idiocy minutes before.

Smirking, pleased, he gazed cheerfully about—and again found himself stopping, frozen. Oh no—across the street, on the opposite sidewalk— A little girl clad in a silly white gown was prancing about her hassled mother, demanding something or other in cheery tones. Finally her mother gave in and strapped the glittery cardboard angel wings onto her back, heaving a sigh.

"Move it, weirdo," commanded some passerby in a flamboyant bright orange shirt and striped purple pants, poking Johnny gruffly as he and his companions jostled past. Johnny hardly noticed, merely glared, too lost in thought to do anything about that stupid action.

Blinking swiftly, Johnny endeavored to regain his composure as he carried on with a sluggish pace that matched that of the lazily falling snowflakes. Reconsidering what Oliver had said, that annoying little epigram, he pondered the truth, mulled over faith—

This time when he heard the bell, Johnny stopped in his tracks and glared at nothing in particular. Gazing about heatedly, his eyes rested a yard or so in front of him: A small boy, clad in rags with grime smeared on his face, sat leaning against a building, slouching forward due to the odd hump formation on the poor dear's back, tinkling a tarnished bell and holding out a metal can in hopes of receiving a few coins. A pathetic sight which Johnny frowned upon, feeling a tug of guilt—but he didn't have much time to ponder it as something glistening caught his eye.

The next occurrence shocked Johnny more than any previous of the night: Right in front of the little boy landed something that looked as though it fell from Heaven. Not only was it absolutely pristine, meaning it could not have come from a mangy bird of the city, it was practically glittering like a star from the sky, from the heavens—a fluffy, smooth feather danced from the sky like its snowflake companions, hopping to a whirly halt right before the orphan child.

_Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings…._

Unsure now of his beliefs, Johnny looked up toward the sky. Perhaps there really **was **some hierarchy with a menagerie of angels, pure creatures led by their God. Proof was manifesting itself right there, three times, was it not, like some Christmas stories he'd heard many a time but thought of them as foolery? Could this be a mere coincidence, fate, or an act of some God?

Something else whispered to his subconscious, and though he wasn't sure what it all was or what it all meant, Johnny made a decision. He pulled a few loose bills of paper money from his pocket, stuffed them into the boy's can, nearly tripping over himself as he saw the alleged-angel feather gone; without any more hesitation, Johnny turned around and dashed forth, determined to go back to Robert's mansion and at least make up with his friends, perhaps keeping his Christmas discoveries to himself. New revelations and the Christmas season certainly didn't stop him from smacking the gaudily-dressed guy in orange and purple as he passed him again, though.

Behind the redhead sat the child, staring happily down at his new money. He got up and shouted, "Merry Christmas!" down the way Johnny ran; and as he stepped into the dark alleyway lurking next to him, smiling toward Jesus in Heaven, a pristine white feather fell from under the lump in his coat.

**End!**

Remember the reason for the season!

Have a nice day!

CyborgRockStar


End file.
